A found wall
There may be one just company left. When my tent pole broke, several weeks back, I grabbed the duct tape and got us through the night. Things held until it was time to go home, and that was that. This morning, I sent a quick email off to the Canadian distributor, enquiring about the cost of getting replacement parts. Within ninety seconds, a reply, inviting me to send them the broken pole. And I shall.
Moving from a broken pole to a broken wall. Last evening, as I was heading off to catch my bus, a small construction team was busily taping off the hallway, in preparation of an evening of wall drilling. Something about putting in a new reception window. This morning, a crowd of awestruck bystanders; in removing the wall, the workers had uncovered the original wall of that section of the building. Four nave window spaces, in a stone wall. Positively medieval. The architect is now figuring out how to integrate the beauty into the mundane, and we’re all cheering.
I decided to make the move, and get a cell phone. Went back to the box store, and sat down with the same young clerk, who explained the available protection plans in a rational and organized manner. I agreed, and we started the paperwork… err, electronic work. Forty minutes later, the system was still in a state of timed out confusion. No joy. I’m to return tomorrow evening to receive my purchase. I’ll be fully rested, and a tad impatient.
The trigger: the dog left by the upstairs window, yet again. I had come home to an empty house with the window in my room fully ajar. Two hours later, someone called in a found hound report, and we went off to pick him up. As the only member of the family (dog excepted) without a text device, I was out of the loop. That will now end.
